


Prometheus

by RaidoX2



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Harry Potter, Blood Magic (Harry Potter), Dark Harry, Dark Magic, Legilimency (Harry Potter), Magical Theory (Harry Potter), Nobility, Occlumency (Harry Potter), Powerful Harry, Telekinesis, Telepathy, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 21:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29320959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaidoX2/pseuds/RaidoX2
Summary: Born frail and weak, Harry Potter lives under the shadow of his twin brother, Jaime. He believed that he was destined to be forgotten. However, unbeknownst to him, within him lay something ancient, something unseen since the birth of Gellert Grindelwald. Powerful Harry.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	1. Memento Mori

**Chapter 1: Memento Mori**

* * *

Oct. 31st, 1981

If there was one thing that Voldemort didn't believe in, it was tales of fate and prophecies. No, the dark lord had already circumvented all the so-called natural laws of magic for him to worry about a child, not even a year old. And yet, upon closer examination, one could quite clearly see a desperate Tom Riddle scouring all over England in search for the Potters. The more he searched, the more desperate he became in finding them, Albus Dumbledore had, of course, managed to curtail his attempts to kidnap a member of his order for information but the old wizard had not counted on a member of his order betraying him as soon as he was confronted.

Peter Pettigrew spewed out secrets as if he were under truth serum, cowering under the Dark Lord's gaze. It took all his patience not to kill the man on the spot but as cowardly as Peter was he was also his only way into the Potter's home. The rat had warned him that Dumbledore had placed a dozen or so protective charms around the home, and Voldemort realised that as soon as he stepped through the wards or even tried to banish them, the order would be there immediately.

So he waited, his faithful followers had attacked Sirius Black in the Black's ancestral home, bypassing the wards through Bellatrix Lestrange. The attack had drawn even Lily and James Potter out of their home, leaving custody of their home and the accursed child to Remus Lupin.

Stepping through the protective enchantments was easy enough, Voldemort heard the loud chimes ringing as his form shimmered into a misty black and he flew straight into the window of the upstairs bedroom.

Remus Lupin was ill-prepared to face him, his hand barely reached his wand before Voldemort cast a silent curse into his mid-riff. The Lycanthrope's stomach was cut open, blood poured onto the floor and he found his body quickly follow. The Dark Lord sneered at the pitiful man gurgled before he hastily moved onto his main target.

The Potter Child.

Or rather Children.

His lips curled into a snarl as he realised that Peter had forgone revealing this important detail to him. "How unfortunate." He hissed at the two children, "Think of this as a simple mercy, you will not live long enough to see your parents killed." Voldemort's eyes drifted to the dark-haired child laying in the crib, the boy lay still unlike his crying brother, emerald eyes bore into his furious red.

'How curious.' He thought as he gripped his wand, he would deal with the boy's brother first before inspecting this one.

He pointed his wand at the crying red-haired boy, "Avada Kedavra." A sickening green jet lurched towards the child and striking him in the head. Voldemort could immediately feel something went wrong with the killing curse; the magic pooled there for a moment before it bounced directly into his chest.

He was unable to contemplate what had happened before he let out a soul-piercing scream, his body ripped apart by his own spell leaving but a haze of barely sentient darkness that rushed out of the window and into the world.

Barely a second later, Albus Dumbledore rushed through the door alongside Lily and James Potter. "Remus!" James shouted, rushing towards his friend's still body. "Remus! Can you hear me?" Three fingers pressed against his friend's neck and for a moment he was unable to feel the faintest of pulses. "Professor. He's alive, but barely."

Dumbledore cast a silent spell on Remus, they watched as the blood currently pooling around his body was returned and the cut seemingly disappeared. "That should be enough for now, but he needs medical attention that I am incapable of providing. It is by its nature a particularly persistent curse."

Lily had already rushed towards her children's cribs, relieved to see that both of them were alive and kicking. She turned to Dumbledore who was already approaching them, "Is it true, what Sev said. Is he really gone?"

It was no surprise that neither Lily and James could feel the swirl of magic around them, nor could they possibly infer it's meaning. Albus reached over for one of the children's' forehead, a smile played upon his lips when he saw the lightning bolt etched onto his skill. "Hmmm…Thankfully, it seems the Prophecy was true, after all. We have young Jaime to thank for that."

Lily frowned, "Are you sure? We had assumed that it would have been Harry."

"Prophecies aren't always clear. You'll find events rarely play out as foretold." He couldn't help but look at the older of the twins, Harry Potter lay in his crib, unblinking emerald eyes burned with a familiar impassiveness and power.

He stepped back in pure shock, he whispered, "G-Gellert." It would be years before Lily and James would learn why Albus Dumbledore hurried out of their home that night, making the excuse that he had to take Remus to Madam Pomphrey.

* * *

Eight Years Later

Harry Potter was a sickly child, unlike his twin Jaime, he possessed a rather weak constitution that always made it hard for him to do anything that resembled exercise. His parents did not know what was wrong with him, or at least that was the impression that he had gotten from their loud argument. Perhaps, it became even clearer over the coming months after he was forced to ingest dozens of different potions made by his mother to no avail.

As a result of his ailment and the hassle it made for him to constantly receive medical attention under the Fidelius Charm, his parents would often leave him with Uncle Sirius at Grimmauld's Place for weeks at a time. Harry did not mind; Sirius had been much better company than his constantly doting parent. His godfather even allowed Harry to explore the house without an escort, something his parents would not even entertain back home.

Harry stopped in front of a pitch-black door; he had no idea what stood behind it but it had been the only part of the house that he had yet to explore. Thin, bony fingers wrapped around the handle and Harry felt a burning sensation course through his palm, "Argh." He grunted in pain quickly letting go of the handle, his hand seemed to have been embroidered with Black Family Sigil before it faded from view.

A voice sneered at him, "Ha! As if a half-blood like you would gain access to our family secrets."

Harry glowered angrily at the pudgy woman inside the portrait frame, "Do you really have to follow me everywhere I go." Walburga Black was intent on insulting him out of her home after her ploy with the resident House Elf had failed. Harry raised an eyebrow at her smug smile, "I'm guessing this is another invention of yours."

"Right you are. Only a black can open the doo—" The door creaked open to her shock, and the young eight-year-old dragged himself through the door. "What were you saying, you old bat." The room like all of the Black's Ancestral Home was dimly lit, smoky in appearance and incredibly deceptive in its true size. But it was not the appearance that appealed to him, the ancient room was a cross between a library and a collection of sinister-looking artefacts. His fingers reached for the ancient talisman, "I wouldn't touch that if I were you?" Walburga's normally loud and shrill seemed to have taken a harder tone, "Unless you would like for the spirit of an ancient Voodo priest to take over your body."

Harry gulped as he stepped back, he cast an accusatory glare at the painting that stood at the helm of the room. "Don't flatter yourself boy, I did not save you out of the goodness of my heart. There are things in this room that even Voldemort wouldn't touch."

Harry remained entranced by the skull, he could hear the faintest of whispers echoing from it and travelling throughout the room, as if they were guiding him to something. He followed them until he finally stopped in front of the final bookshelf in the room. He grasped an ancient tome with a skull embedded on its cover, there was something about it that drew him to it.

Walburga watched in interest as the boy touched a book that no one except her great grandfather had been able to open. He was in for a rude surprise, she thought somewhat too eagerly. Harry almost dropped the book when the skull's eye sockets glowed a sickening yellow, he immediately felt a sinister desire wash over him.

Yet the sick young boy's mind stood firm. "Get out," Harry muttered softly, the presence never budged, and Harry felt himself being drawn more and more into its gaze. His eyes glowed a combative green, "I said get out of my head!"

Crack.

Walburga winced slightly as an immense rush of magic tumbled throughout the room, crashing against the wards, and almost destroying in a feat of accidental magic. Impossible. It was not possible for mental magic to be powerful enough to affect physical phenomena. Unless it was—her eyes widened in pure shock, and a feeling of dread overcame her.

The skull on the book opened its mouth, and the book sprawled open to the first page. "B-Blu'dakorr." The title of the book seemed to mirror it's outward sinister appearance but it also sounded alien to his ears. The book seemed less like the textbooks his mum used to teach him and more like a collection of notes haphazardly put together.

"You opened it." Walburga sputtered, "No one has been able to open that book besides my great grandfather, Phineas."

"I think I have a chocolate frog of his. He was a headmaster at Hogwarts, I believe." Harry coughed out; he would have to return to his room soon, already feeling faint and dizzy from over-expenditure.

"Just a headmaster! Boy, I would have you know that few wizards in history are more accomplished at the art of mental magic than Phineas." Harry found Walburga's adulation of her Great Grandfather somewhat endearing. The late matriarch of the Black Family once more settled into a contemplative silence.

"Mind magic?" Harry inquired, "Does that include hearing things that others can't hear."

"And what do you normally hear, B-Harry."

"Voices, for the most part, it's mostly gibberish but if I concentrate hard enough, I can make out faint bits and pieces." He scrunched his eyes close together as he focused on Walburga, "You're angry. Something about half-bloods, Potter and…" Harry felt his connection automatically blocked as Walburga stared harshly back at him.

"Never do that again." Walburga hissed out, "There is no greater disrespect than to enter a person's mind without permission."

He shrugged, "You asked, I showed. It's not like my parents believe me anyway, they seem to think that I'm suffering from hallucinations."

"Fools." Walburga said with a steely voice, "But perhaps it is a blessing in disguise. You shouldn't tell anyone about your gift, many would be willing to kill you to steal your abilities."

The young boy nodded frightened at the prospect, Walburga had been surprisingly helpful during his time at the library. He didn't know if it was the fact that he had opened her grandfather's book or something else. So, he plucked up the courage to ask her for help. "Could you umm train me?"

"What?"

"I know that pureblood family often teach their children before they attend Hogwarts. My mother refuses to teach me, but they teach Jaime everything." Walburga noticed his bitter smile, "I want to learn Magic and prove to them that I'm not weak."

"Such a simple reason is not even worth entertaining. Tell me why?"

"Because I am ill, I want to find a way to cure myself. And if that's not enough, I can give you a peek into this book that you're so infatuated about." Walburga found herself smiling at the boy's blatant attempt at manipulating her, he reminded her so much of Sirius. He possessed the same purity that Sirius had as a child, at least before Orion had begun pushing his agenda on him.

"Hmm…Perhaps there is some merit to the blood ward, after all." Walburga's painting settled into her rocking chair, "I expect you to be here every morning at 7 am sharp. If you're not, Kreacher will make you wish that you were."

Harry nodded; he would have expressed his thanks but he doubted he would have been able to utter the words without falling victim to his ever-encroaching fatigued state. He barely made it back to his room before he fell unconscious.

* * *

Nurmengard Castle

Time.

Grindelwald had lost all sense of the concept; the only indication of its passage was the greys of his hair and the wrinkles adorned on his bony face. There was no indication for how long he had been here, imprisoned in a castle of his own making.

He let out a little chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Albus knew that the wards at Azkaban wouldn't have been able to hold him, Dementors whilst powerful in their own right were easy for someone like him to evade or hijack. It was why he wasn't allowed to interact with any of the guards, he found it amusing that such talented magicians would waste their lives rotting in this icy wasteland guarding a castle with only a dozen prisoners.

Albus knew, he was sure that he only needed to take one look at his mastery of defensive magic to know that he didn't need guards. Then again, Albus had always never had any appreciation for his mastery of the abstract. He couldn't see what he saw.

He never understood.

But it did not matter anymore, in the end, he had lost and as a result, was forced to remain in this room until he passed. There would be no saving grace, no escape, not even the slightest comfort in this prison.

"Festina Lente."

Grindelwald frowned at the incantation, it was a spell of his creation, one that he had shared with just one other person. The rattling of the metal bars outside the window stopped, he couldn't even hear the raging howling of the wind anymore.

Time had altogether come to a standstill.

"Albus." Grindelwald uttered, "Come to kill me finally."

Fire erupted in the small cell, Albus Dumbledore stepped out from the swirl of flames, wand trained on the chained man. "It has been a while, Gellert." There was no softness in his voice, only weariness and coldness.

"You've gotten better at it. Almost as good as I." Gellert spoke with a mocking tone. Albus never answered he seemed almost frozen as he stared at the condition that his former partner had been reduced to. "So tell me, what would you cause the great Albus Dumbledore to have to sneak into my cell."

"There is another," Dumbledore spoke slowly, casting a charm to heat the room up to an adequate temperature.

"Another?" Grindelwald did not need his sight to guess Dumbledore's next words though he dreaded them, nonetheless.

"Esper."

It was for a fleeting moment, but Dumbledore felt Gellert's indomitable presence flood around him. "You lie." Gellert growled, "There are none left, I was the last."

Albus smiled bitterly, "If I were not sure, would I be here." Gellert contemplated his words for a brief moment, Albus had never visited him since his incarceration. As such it gave credence that he would only visit under such conditions if he wanted something from him—Gellert's eyes widened in shock.

"The curse." Dumbledore nodded solemnly and Gellert felt his already slumped form almost give way to the harsh floor. "Then there is nothing you can do. He will die, like all before him."

"You survived."

Gellert's smile was almost eery, "I never truly rid myself of the curse, I had to give up something very valuable to survive." He tapped his mismatched eyes, "You think if I had been a full Esper you would have been able to defeat me."

Albus sighed, "How long does he have?"

"It depends on how powerful his mind can keep the curse at bay. I have heard tales of some surviving into their late twenties but I have never been able to verify it." Gellert looked down in slight sadness, "I…I'm sorry Albus but there is nothing you can do for the boy. The Ritual I performed required me to fracture my soul and commit atrocities on my soul."

Albus Dumbledore shakingly leaned against the wall, he had spent the better part of eight years trying to find everything he could about Harry's condition. He knew it quite intimately, of course, Gellert suffered from it when he had first met him. "That is quite alright, Gellert. You've been more than helpful."

His wand flourished several enchantments around the room, enlarging it from the almost inhumanly confined space to something akin to a bedroom. Grindelwald noticed several illusionary runes being placed around the room, he had to admit that if it were at all possible, Albus was many times stronger than when they last met.

His spell was slowly waning, and time was beginning to return. Dumbledore made to summon Fawkes when Grindelwald stopped him, "Wait…There is one last thing. I don't have any concrete proof but there were rumours of a book that possessed a ritual to cure the curse. It was called the Blu'Dakkor."

Albus paled at the name, "That's impossible. I thought that the book was a myth."

Gellert pointed a bony finger at the elder wizard's wand, "I remember you once said that about the three hallows. I found some proof of its existence in Paris, I believe it belonged to the Lestrange family before it was stolen."

"You expect me to believe that one of the darkest artefacts in existence would possess articles on Healing Magic. You know why the muggles referred to it as the Blood Bible, do you not."

"I'm aware of the legend, Albus. I am also inclined to believe that only an Esper can truly open the book." Dumbledore's eyes hardened and Grindelwald realised that he couldn't persuade the old wizard to search for the artefact. And he was certain that he wouldn't give it to the boy if he couldn't verify it's contents first.

Time resumed and as suddenly as Dumbledore appeared, he was gone.

A sole icy blue eye glowed in the dark, connected to the faintest traces of magic.

He could see again.

He could see it all.

An almost soft smile played upon Grindelwald's lips, "A Potter, now that is a surprise. I look forward to watching you, Harry." His smile took on a sinister turn even as the guards flooded his cell, alerted by his use of magic.

It didn't matter if they tortured him, or even killed him in that moment.

Grindelwald was secure in the knowledge that there would be another to continue his legacy.


	2. Caveat Emptor

Walburga Black resented Lord Voldemort for destroying her family, the once prosperous House of Black had dwindled to only a few members in the short span of a decade. She had lived through two wizarding wars, and after her father foolishly decided to join Grindelwald's cause, she was in no mood to entertain another. There was little merit to his plans, to begin with, the man's obsession with blood purity and ruling the world had only shown her the Dark Lord's true nature.

Selfish and entitled, though he often spoke with a silver tongue, she knew that he would only use those on his side until they were of no use. Then and only then, would he kill them. But she had decided like many of her siblings to err on the side of caution and present themselves as faux allies. That was her first mistake, and would only serve to push her son, Regulus, and his cousins into the Dark Lord's ranks. But the truth was that they had all been corrupted long before they attended Hogwarts, it was after all in this very room where their obsession with the Dark Arts began.

She was sure that had Bellatrix been slightly more studious and interested in the more abstract magical subjects, she would likely have become the next Dark Lord.

However, not even Bellatrix's obsession with collecting dark spells could compare with Harry's insatiable hunger for learning magic. Walburga was overwhelmed by the rate that he was learning theory, it was as if the boy possessed an unnatural connection with magic. It took him only a week for him to understand the principles underlying basic magical theory, something which normally took children months to learn.

It wouldn't do for him to learn too fast, that would only encourage him to experiment with his magic. Something that had often led to some very fatal consequences. She had taken to distracting the boy with books on magical history.

"How is this teaching me magic." Since asking Walburga how to cast spells, she had forced him to scribe dozens of books on the History of the Wizarding World. Two weeks of torturous historical lessons and Harry was certain that he would rather sit through his Father's long-winded lectures about Quidditch.

"Knowledge of Proper Etiquette is important if you are to thrive in this society." Walburga replied, shrivelling in disgust, "You are the Scion of your family, I cannot believe they did not teach you."

Harry shrugged, "I doubt anyone would care if a sickly child insulted their family or their traditions. Besides…" His gaze lingered over to the Blu'dakorr that sat beside him.

"Don't even think about it." Walburga warned, "I don't want you reading that book until you've gained a firm understanding of more advanced magic." Harry had refused to show her what was inside the book, he had muttered something about how the book had judged her unworthy. She had asked Kreacher to take it from him, only for the House Elf to find himself unable to remove it from Harry's bedside. Kreacher mentioned that he felt compelled to leave the book behind suggesting that either the book had a permanent charm cast on it or it possessed some sort of sentience, Walburga was leaning towards the latter.

Harry muttered, "You're thinking too loudly, it's annoying."

"Say what, you little brat. I'll have you repeating Muggle History for a whole week."

"You're a painting, you can't force me to do anything." Harry deadpanned, and he was certain he would rather risk learning magic on his own than study Henry VIII again.

"Kreacher!" Harry gulped as he heard Walburga shout for the resident House-Elf. He sincerely hoped that his comment hadn't sparked the temperamental woman's ire.

There was a sudden pop and the resident house-elf appeared in front of her painting, "Mistress asked for Kreacher." The old elf bowed his head waiting for Walburga to speak.

"Did you manage to find what I asked for?"

Kreacher nodded his head fervently, "Of course, Mistress." He snapped his fingers and a rectangular ornate box floated in front of him, "It was in Master Regulus's room as you said it would be."

"Give it to the boy." Kreacher looked at his mistress in discontent, yet never made any move to disobey her, the Elf begrudgingly walked over to Harry and presented him with the box.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"A family heirloom—" Harry cautiously placed his hand on the box, noticing the same runes that had been placed on the Library door had also been etched into the wood. The box slid open on its own accord, revealing a dark-coloured wand. "You'll be using this wand to train, at least until you can get your own from Ollivanders."

Harry grasped the wand in his hand, he felt an immediate rush of power around him as the tip of the wand began to glow a bright yellow. He tried recalled the feeling of his magic, allowing it to spring forward in the form of a rectangular shield. Walburga and Kreacher appeared stunned by the manner of which Harry had summoned his magic, and as accidental as it may have been, it proved sufficiently powerful enough to cast a protective charm around him.

Harry felt his concentration waver after a few seconds, and the shield faltered before it faded from view. "That was harder than I thought it would have been."

"Your magic is unfocused; I am surprised you even managed to conjure the shield in the first place," Walburga explained, though the woman was barely able to take the excitement out of her voice. "Let's try something a little bit simpler shall we."

Harry nodded enthusiastically, she could teach him the most useless spell in existence, and he would still be glad that she taught it to him. To a child like Harry, magic was magic.

* * *

Sirius had been summoned by Dumbledore earlier that morning, there was little incentive for him to call him in such short notice considering that they were in a period of peace. Especially since Dumbledore was insistent on the meeting to take place at Godric's Hollow and without Harry. He had left Harry in the care of Kreacher, and Andromeda had volunteered to drop by and check if he had taken his medicine.

Sirius had taken extra precautions to ensure that he had not been tailed, taking his motorbike rather than choosing to use the Floo network. Despite this, he had arrived before Lupin and Dumbledore.

Jaime rushed towards him, "Uncle Sirius! Dad didn't tell me you were coming." He hugged his godson, ruffling the excitable child's hair as he looked at James's frowning face.

"I brought you something," Sirius said. "Think of it as a belated birthday present." Rummaging into his pocket, he enlarged what appeared to be a small broomstick.

"You got me a broom." Jaime looked at his dad expectantly, "Can I keep it, dad."

James Potter stared at his son for a long while, Sirius could tell that something was wrong with his best friend by the strain of his face. James nodded, "Why don't you test your broom in the garden. Your uncle and I have some things to discuss."

Jaime rushed towards the garden, halting at the door for a moment, "U-Um…How is Harry?"

Sirius smiled, "Your brother is doing fine. Now go on, that broom isn't going to fly itself."

Jaime hesitated, he wanted to enquire more but realised that perhaps this wasn't the right time. He trudged out into the garden and heard the door snap close by way of a locking charm.

Sirius asked, "Where are the others."

"Dumbledore said that he would bring Remus, as for Lily, she's refusing to leave her study," James replied, the hallmarks for fatigue and stress adorned his face. "I…It's been hard for her."

"This is about Harry, isn't it?" Sirius could tell just by looking at him, James Potter looked nothing like one would expect of a powerful Auror. "Any updates on his condition. Last I spoke with Andromeda, their tests were still inconclusive."

James muttered, "It's best if we wait for Dumbledore, he'll be able to explain better than I or Lily can." The Headmaster of Hogwarts had chosen this as an appropriate time to arrive, both of them were quite familiar with the elder wizard's penchant for theatrical entrances.

Fire burst from the wall, licking the ground in a frenzied fury as Dumbledore and Remus exited from out of the flames. Fawkes materialised beside his master, cawing a greeting towards the other two occupants.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with mirth, "Fawkes always did enjoy your company." His gaze swept towards the garden where Jaime was busy practising drills, "I see young Jaime has developed your talent for Quiddich, James."

Sirius growled, "Get to the point, Professor. I have a sick boy home alone that I really shouldn't have left alone."

"There is no need for such hostility Sirius, if my sources are accurate, Harry is doing fine just by himself. Excellent even—Ah, Lily, we've been waiting for you."

Sirius turned towards Lily, the woman had dressed adequately, but he could tell that she was a wreck due to her poor application of a basic glamour charm. "Are you okay?" He asked gently but Lily kept silent, even as she took her seat beside her husband.

Sirius raised his hands in an exasperated fashion, "Can someone please tell me what is going on."

Dumbledore summoned a ledger, "At first, I like many of the healers at St Mungo believed Harry had contracted a parasite. But as we all know, parasites can't infect magical hosts for a, particularly long period without dying. " He flipped over to a page of a young child who had died in the mid-1950s before presenting it to both Lily and James, "His condition was unerringly similar to those who were under a blood curse."

Sirius's eyes went wild in fury, "Who? I'll kill them." Performing a blood curse was seen as an act worse than using the Killing Curse, it wasn't just a one-way ticket to Azkaban but the caster would also be condemned to the Dementor's Kiss.

Dumbledore said, "The Blood Curse placed on Harry is not from one placed on Lily's or James's bloodlines." He pressed a finger to the case in the ledger, highlighting the deceased child's name, "The Dracul Clan of Vampires have been cursed by a group of hunters in Romania. Any human they turn will always die shortly after they complete their transition. The boy was one of many unfortunate accidents before the International Confederation of Wizards could intervene."

"In the past, Wizards would hunt magical creatures like Werewolves and Vampires for sport. It's why there are so few vampire clans or packs in the world." Remus explained.

Lily choked out, "So you know what Harry is."

"I'm afraid not, Lily." Dumbledore lied, "At least until Harry demonstrates something out of the ordinary."

Sirius tried to recount the many accidents that occurred in his ancestral home, but they all seemed to be in concordance with accidental magic spats. And both Lily and James were unable to recall anything of thing of the sort.

Dumbledore felt his shoulders relax at the fact that they were unaware of what their son was. He could not trust anyone with such information, not even the boy himself. It was too risky.

James asked, "So is that it? There is nothing we can do. He's going to die."

Dumbledore smiled sadly, "It is impossible to estimate when a blood curse takes a person's life. It depends on the content of the curse; some are harmless and allow a person to live into old age. Others can kill children before they are born." At the very least, Dumbledore was thankful that Harry wasn't the child that the prophecy pertained to. There was no telling what would happen if he were and he died before Voldemort returned.

"We cannot tell Jaime about this." James said, "I don't want to burden his mind with the prospect of his brother dying. Perhaps it is best if we leave him with Sirius." Lily begrudgingly found herself agreeing with her husband; Dumbledore noted just how fiercely protective they were of their only healthy child. He didn't need to peer into their minds to know what they were thinking, he had seen this pattern of behaviour in his parents.

"You're giving up!" Sirius shouted; his famous rage seeped out as he looked upon all of their resigned faces, "How can you give up on your son."

"Sirius!" Remus whispered harshly, "This isn't the time."

"No." Sirius stood up, "I agreed for you to leave Harry in my care so that he could receive treatment more efficiently. But I did not agree to this…"

"S-Sirius. We've tried everything. There isn't a renowned healer that we haven't been to." Lily collapsed further into the sofa, she quivered out, "At some point, we all have to accept reality."

The meeting ended on that sombre note as Lily and James excused themselves from the comfort of their living room. Sirius quickly exited the house without so much as a goodbye, he was still numb from Dumbledore's revelation.

His godson was going to die.

He would be damned if he allowed that to happen, eyes hardening onto the snowy grass as he realised that he could not do this alone. He needed help from someone who was demented enough to be well versed in such magic. A bitter chuckle escaped his lips as he made his way to ask help from the one person, he hated more than Peter Pettigrew.

* * *

'There is no greater treasure to a wizard than their soul, without it they are without identity and agency. Yet often the subject of harnessing the soul is avoided by many, mayhaps it is because the soul like the mind exists upon a plane only seen by those blessed with the power of sight. It is the root of all magic and marked the beginning and end of an Esper's journey. For in the death of another may we find life anew.'

Snap.

Harry slammed the book shut, 'I can't do this.' He thought to himself, continuously muttering the words over and over again. The book mentioned that a way to replenish someone's body was in the use of sacrificial magic, to take another's soul and consume it.

And this was only on the second page of the damned thing, he shuddered at the thought of what lay deeper into the book. Of course, he couldn't find out because the Blu'dakorr required a blood sacrifice before it would reveal what was on each page. The Author's must have been incredibly secretive about who they were willing to give their secrets away to.

Harry gazed at the wall of his bedroom, he could hear Walburga's loud snores echoing through the hallway. Biting his lip, Harry sneaked out the room and into the Black Library.

He had to find out if the book was telling the truth. And it just so happened that he knew where to find what he needed. The bound soul of a voodoo priest lay within an ornate skull.

Blood poured out of his palms, as Harry muttered the incantation within the book, _"Sorbere."_ The blood-stained the jewel incrusted skull, frizzing and popping as if it was made of acid before disappearing altogether. For a moment he had thought that the spell had failed before he felt himself being dragged into the abyss. The world around him was consumed by heavy darkness, it was as if he was drowning in the depths of the sea.

Despite feeling the whole world crashing down upon him, he could still make out the faint silhouette of a woman. "My, my! You are a surprise, Mr Potter." The woman snapped her finger together, chains erupted from the darkness, rushing towards him and wrapping around his body in such a fashion that he was unable to move. "I will do great things when I take control of your body, Mon Cherie."

"W-Where am I?" Harry croaked out.

"Children." The woman sounded disappointed, "Always so curious but never thoughtful, are they. We are in your mind…Well, It's mine now." The chains grew tighter, his small frame creaked painfully as he fruitlessly thrashed in his bindings.

"My mind…" Harry muttered as he forced his body to calm down. This was meant to be his domain, not hers. He concentrated all his focus onto the woman, his magic lashed out in approval, melting the chain as if they were made out of butter.

The woman stepped back, fear gripped her body, "You…You're an Esper!" She raised her hand to utter another spell but the words never quite made it out of her lips as she was consumed utterly by Harry's mind.

Harry collapsed onto the ground, he felt a sudden rush of pain spike through his body as splinters of the woman's mind and magic slammed against his own. The feeling was painful and euphoric at the same time, the warmth of her magic melded throughout him as it began to strengthen his body just a little.

It wasn't enough.

He needed more.

Green eyes burned sinisterly in the dark as Harry committed himself to this path. He would remember this moment as the day he began to follow in the footsteps of Grindelwald and those who came before him.


End file.
